


A Prolix of Persona

by Darklady



Series: Prolix-verse [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Justice League of America (Comics)
Genre: Identity Issues, M/M, Yes both those pairing are different pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One can divide the body. One can divide the mind. How does one divide the heart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prolix of Persona

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this story is VERY old. Also canon. Old, rusty cannon with the fuse long vanished. Sorry. But – once upon a time – DC did split several of the Justice League characters into their ‘hero’ and ‘human’ halves – which for the list full of ficer’s lead to the really, seriously, majorly importance question of the day. No, not ‘who will find the villain’. I said the important question. “Which of the two – Bruce or Bat - will Dick Grayson sleep with?”

Please note that this story is VERY old. Also canon. Old, rusty cannon with the fuse long vanished. Sorry. But – once upon a time – DC did split several of the Justice League characters into their ‘hero’ and ‘human’ halves – which for the list full of ficer’s lead to the really, seriously, majorly importance question of the day. No, not ‘who will find the villain’. I said the important question. “Which of the two – Bruce or Bat - will Dick Grayson sleep with?”

Inquiring minds want to know.

A Prolix of Persona

Bruce Wayne stared at Batman over a table of dirty plates and white take-out cartons. Without Alfred to manage the situation, dinner had been both ad-hoc and tense. Dick - or Nightwing, as the cowled half of the now Divided Duo insisted on referring to him - had done what he could to keep matters cordial (or at least functional) but he was no Alfred. Still, by the end of the belated dinner most of the vital partnership had been hammered out.

“The interesting question, Nightwing, is also why you did not split?”

Dick Grayson shrugged. “None of the Titans did. Besides. I’ve always said there’s only one of me - whatever I’m doing.”

The shrug shifted into a yawn. ‘Ghod, what a day’, Dick thought. At least he was off rotation tomorrow. Otherwise he would be looking at a late ride back to Bludhaven. As it was? He stood and stretched. “OK, guys. I’m going up to bed.” The day had been long enough.

Dick was reaching for the plates, which is why he missed the motion as both other men rose automatically and reached for him - only to collide in mid-turn. 

“Dick”

“Nightwing”

The sound - more then the movement - caught the young man’s attention. One quick look and…“Oh, shit” He hadn’t considered that part of the division. Clearly, neither had either Bruce or the Bat. Now Batman was giving Bruce Wayne the look, which Bruce was ignoring in favor of his own ‘Mayflower’ sneer.

“Nightwing is…”, the cowled figure began.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bruce Wayne waved him away. “He barely tolerates you.”

“Bruce!” Dick moved to cut off the squabble.

Bruce looked shocked. “I remember very clearly you saying you did *not* want the Bat in your bed.”

“And I remember you saying that there wasn’t a choice”, Dick replied.

That brought forth a smug smile. “Now, quite clearly, there is.”

“If so,” the dark voice answered, “he has not chosen.”

“Bruce. Batman.” The young mans gaze encompassed both figures equally.“ I am not going to choose between you. Been there. Done that. Didn’t work for either of us.”

“But that was...” The Armani-clad half of the pair began.

Dick held up one hand. “This jealousy thing is very Freudian, and not constructive! When - and from experience I know that this is a when - you two reintegrate, both of you are going to be pissed shitless that I rejected your ‘true self’. Then I’m going to be in for months of uncommunicative brooding.

“I would not..” The caped persona began.

“Sorry, Batman. You already did, remember?”

“That was...”

“Different?” Grayson gave a short snort. “It always is.”

“So Dick.” Bruce Wayne hesitated, searching for words. “Until this...separation.. is resolved... what you are saying is that we both sleep alone?” From his expression, that was little improvement.

“Or together. Your choice.” Dick Grayson smiled at the sudden silence in the room. “I’m going upstairs to take a shower. Then I’m going to bed. Where you two end up? That's for you to decide.”

“But.” Bruce Wayne began.

“You.” The Batman growled.

Dick laid the last dish in the dishwasher and pushed the button. “Bruce. Batman.” He nodded at both men. “I forced a sexual decision on you once. Once!” He paused, seeing the memory shadow over both faces. “I learned my lesson. As of now, you both are on your own.”

He walked past the pair, turning at the door to add. “I’ll be upstairs when you two have worked things out.” 

Then he left.

A full five minutes passed with no sound save the splash of the dishwasher.

The Batman surveyed Bruce Wayne cautiously.

Bruce Wayne looked over the Batman, curious.

Finally, Bruce Wane spoke. “I admit,” he began, “I’ve always wondered. How good am I? I mean..” He gave his alter ego a bemused smile. “I did study that... or you did...”

“I did.”

“Yes, I suppose it was mostly you then. Whichever. We've never had any complaints exactly, but there is always the question. Is it me or just the playboy persona?”

“The Man or the Bat.” The dark figure added in agreement.

They sat a while more.

Bruce shook his head. “Not with Dick”

“No” The Batman concurred. “Never with Nightwing. But he loves us, which would tend to affect his judgment.”

“I guess.”

“One way to find out.” Batman offered.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you said that.”

Bruce Wayne felt himself swept into strong arms and a very familiar maneuver. His last clear thought as firm lips descended was ‘So that's what it feels like’.

The next two minutes involved the expert and quite enjoyable duel of hands and tongues. A wonderful sensation, made somehow better by the certain predictability of every move. After all, he had done this before. Just never with himself. The thought brought a laugh to what remained of his rational mind.

The Batman had been acting automatically. After all, he had this down to a science. That is, until the other partner began to anticipate every move. “Reasonable’ he decided, ‘Wayne would have the same experience.’ It was a magnificent sensation and a slightly unnerving thought.

Simultaneously, both men blinked and stepped back.

“Impressive”

Wayne laughed. “I’ve always thought so.”

“You always were in love with yourself.”

Bruce ignored the remark in favor of a return kiss. This time it was the Bat who found himself turned and devoured. A shocking thought, but after a split second one he found strangely attractive.

This time when they paused both men were breathing unsteadily.

“We had best go upstairs.” Bruce Wayne said.

The Batman did not answer, but followed his alter-ego out of the kitchen and up the wide formal stairs to the second floor. From here they could hear the water running in the Master Suite.

“Dick.” Batman whispered.

Bruce Wayne hesitated a moment before adding “Not the forgiving type.”

Batman nodded. “If we are together - without him?” The conclusion was to obvious to require stating. 

“It will be a long, cold winter for whoever.”

“The guest room?” Batman considered the prospect with clear disfavor. 

“You’re the detective.” Bruce Wayne shrugged. “How long do you think this is going to last?”

“Without clues? And we have no clues. Weeks. Even months.”

“Shit! That’s a long cold winter either way.”

Offered no better choice, Bruce Wayne entered his bedroom and sat down on the foot of the bed. The Batman glanced at a chair, but then moved over to hover near the window.

The sound of water stopped.

Dick stepped out of the bathroom, clad only in the towel he was using to dry his hair. 

He looked at the two matching figures. “You guys decide?”

“Would you?” The Batman asked.

“Could you?” Bruce Wayne began.

“Hey.” Dick Grayson grinned. “Like I told you years ago. All of me has always loved both of you.” He flipped back the sheets and fluffed a pillow before reaching for the light.

Batman hesitated. “I should shower.”

“Yeh,” came the voice from the bed. “Kevlar does that.” Dick gave it a moments thought and added. “Take Bruce with you.” The he rolled into the pillow and closed his eyes.

“Well?” Bruce stood.

Batman said nothing. Simply headed for the bathroom door.

Suits, even well tailored Italian ones, come off far faster then kevlar and nomex; which meant Bruce Wayne was finished hanging his outfit on the tailors valet while the Batman was still working with fasteners. Bruce Wayne sat down on the vanity bench to watch. He could have simply stepped into the shower, but this was frankly more interesting. ‘After all.” he thought, ‘in fifteen plus years of wearing the suit, how often have I *watched* the process?’ It also gave him a chance at a not entirely impersonal assessment of his own physique. Not that he didn’t know what he looked like. He had lived with this body all his life - literally. But he’d never considered going to bed with it before. Or rather he always went to bed with it - but not in the same way.

Nasty scar on the back, Bruce thought. That must be Bane’s work. He had sometimes considered plastic surgery to sand it down, but only for functional reasons. Now he decided to ask Dick if he particularly disliked the look of it. Or maybe he’s just have it taken care of. Identifiable bullet wound on left shoulder. Knife wound from his post-Robin stupidity. It was decided. He could have that fixed at the same time.

Batman had finished stowing the suit, and now looked over with identical eyes.

“Like what you see?”

“Truth? No.” Bruce tapped his own scarred shoulder. “Just thinking I should have taken better care of the property.”

“Not your fault. Mine. ”

Bruce reached over and strolled the long white stripe behind the right lung. The memento of a knife and a biker bar, and a poorly chosen moment to make a political stand. “Yours except for this.”

“No.” Batman returned the gesture. “That one is yours.” Then he moved one finger to follow the near-invisible mark on Wayne’s neck. The remains of a glass cut from a bat shattered window. “And this one.”

“That one,” Bruce answered, covering the finger with his palm. “I think we can share.” Gripping the scarred hand, he raised the finger to his lips.

Batman reached behind him into the shower and turned the tap. “We had best shower now, or Dick will fall asleep.”

“Then we’ll both end in the guest room.” Bruce followed his other half into the tiled stall. “ Which would frankly be harsh since that is, after all, our bed.”

Not surprisingly they were both in full agreement as to the heat and volume of the shower - both extreme. Dick often teased about being boiled, but twenty years of scars and torn tendons made over-built muscles difficult to relax. Hot water helped. The only awkward moment was when their hands collided over the soap, both having reached for it at the identical moment. With a glance they compromised. Batman got the soap and loofah, Bruce got the shampoo and washcloth. The result was both efficient and enjoyable.

They moved through the business of getting clean with the coordinated efficiency of one person. Which, Batman considered, was not surprising when he considered that - after all - that is what they were. One person in two bodies. The situation had its advantages.

Who else, after all, had fingers strong enough to truly massage his scalp? Who else could offer enough pressure in just the right places to stop the fatigue-caused spasms of his shoulders? And who else would need no instruction as to exactly which joints and tendons were sore today? Perhaps Wayne would not be too hard to endure after all.

Bruce Wayne was having much the same thoughts for much the same reasons. Batman’s palm pressed against precisely those neck muscles strained from a day staring at the monitor. His fingers tapped the exact pressure points where a headache had threatened ever since the Wayne Industries executive conference at noon. He brought the loofah down at the perfect angle over the slick points where multiple scars tended to tighten on skin. For all the complaints he had heard, Bruce was beginning to decide that the Batman was not such an unpleasant person after all.

Leaning back into the pulsing spray, Bruce felt his erection stir. Nice. He wondered? A slide of hand down a strange yet familiar thigh answered the question. Yes. Yes indeed. He considered being impressed, then dismissed the thought as vanity. Still. He smiled as a matching rough palm reached around for him.

Batman did not smile. That was a waste of energy best directed elsewhere. Elsewhere such as the familiar fingers circling so familiarly around his cock. Not that he spent much time on masturbation these days. Not unless Dick was away on business. But the memory was there. And this? He remembered the movements, but without the matching sensations between penis and palm? It was... interesting. Unthinking his hips shifted forward as his fingers tightened.

“No.” The word came simultaneously from two mouths, followed by...

“Nightwing.”

“Dick.”

“Right.” Batman nodded, then turned the spray to cool.

A few seconds under the rinse and they were both reaching for large bath towels. Thankfully, Alfred had left the place well stocked. Both ignored the one dressing gown hanging on the hook.

Bruce opened the door and Batman clicked off the light behind them. Dick was still in the center of the broad bed, and to all appearances sleeping peacefully. Although, as they both knew, appearances meant nothing.

There was one more awkward moment as the both headed for the left side of the bed.

Bruce smiled. “Coin flip?”

Batman scowled. He remembered the referred to occasion with Dent and was not amused. “Your choice tonight. Mine tomorrow.”

“Fair enough.” Wayne slipped in between the warmed sheets, and felt the mattress rock gently as the Batman did likewise.

Dick Grayson rolled to his back and wrapped one arm around each set of shoulders. He grinned as matching kisses fell simultaneously on each cheek. What was that Zen thing Conner said about good in all situations?

As two sets of wide hands stroked down either side of his torso, Dick decided that this situation could be very good indeed. Toes curling into the cotton sheets, he arched up into the warmth of two right hands. More than enough to cover all of his length in abrasive warmth.

Dick wiggled his arms free, and sent each hand questing for its own matching set of cock and heavy balls. He found them, and was rewarded by the echo as matching gasps. Pleasure in stereo.

Too heated to delay, Dick pumped the two cocks, answering the rhythm they had established on his own. Too soon, far too soon, he felt the tensing of his own balls warning of his impending release. With a last stroke of his thumbs over each sensitive head, he urged the same from his two lovers. And received it.

Warm fluid flooded his fingers as the scent of salt filled the room. Dick gave himself into his own pleasure, doubly satisfied.

After a brief rest Bruce reached into the nightstand for a hand towel. He passed another to the Batman. Dick held out his hand for a third. A moments work and they were once again snuggled together, warm now, relaxed and sleepy.

“Night Bats. Night Bruce.”

On the edge of sleep, Dick gave one passing thought to his friend Wally. Wally was League now. He hoped Linda would accept matters as philosophically as Bruce and the Bat did.

 

Not at all THE END

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©KKR 2011


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